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Lately, the usually gloomy students of Slytherin House had been all smiles and full of laughter.
Besides racking up a ridiculous number of points thanks to Augustus doing exceptionally well in his classes, many students had also discovered a hidden gem in the Slytherin common room—a sort of mobile library, and Augustus was the librarian.
It all started when a first-year nervously asked Augustus for help on a homework essay.
To their surprise, Augustus patiently explained everything. From then on, any first-year with a question would go to him, and the best part?
No matter how obscure the question, Augustus always had the perfect answer—and the homework always got top marks. When even upper-year students tried asking him for help and walked away satisfied, the nickname "The Walking Library" started making the rounds in Slytherin.
Sitting on the lush, green lawn just outside Hogwarts Castle, Augustus was reading a book he'd just borrowed from the library—Advanced Theories of the Dark Arts.
These kinds of books required the Head of House's signature, so Augustus had paid a special visit to Snape's office to get it.
In Augustus's opinion, Dark Magic—long shunned in the wizarding world—was really just a collection of high-powered destructive spells.
Whether they were "evil" or not seemed like a pointless debate. Magic itself was just a tool—it depended entirely on the wizard using it.
Slapping moral labels on spells made no sense. In this low-magic world, most spells were for daily use or entertainment anyway. Even so-called attack spells were often weak—like "Densaugeo" or similar silly stuff.
To Augustus, it was the long-standing peace of this world that had stunted the growth of magic. In his original world, magic was a force of war.
Even a single Archmage could turn the tide of a battle—let alone a Legendary Mage, who was basically a walking weapon of mass destruction. Over there, magic existed for war.
It was Thursday, and there was a flying class at 3 PM. Augustus, always punctual, closed his book around 2:30 and started heading toward the training field.
Honestly, flying wasn't something that interested him much. Sure, humans had always fantasized about flying since ancient times, but for a wizard who could already fly using his own power, zooming around on a broomstick wasn't exactly thrilling.
It was a breezy, sunny day. As Augustus walked briskly down the sloped lawn toward the flat flying field, the grass underfoot rippled gently. Beyond the field stood the dark edge of the forest, the trees swaying in the wind.
Most of the Slytherin and Gryffindor students were already there. When they saw Augustus arrive, many Slytherins smiled—after all, Slytherin and Gryffindor were bitter rivals in Quidditch, and even in a simple flying class, the Slytherins were hoping their all-rounder Augustus would show the Gryffindors who's boss. Twenty broomsticks lay neatly on the ground. Soon, Madam Hooch arrived.
She had short grey hair and sharp yellow eyes like a hawk.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand next to a broomstick. Hurry up, don't waste time!"
The broom next to Augustus looked old, worn-out, and a little grimy. He frowned slightly—he was a bit of a clean freak, after all.
"Stick out your right hand over the broom," Madam Hooch shouted from the front. "Now say, 'Up!'"
"Up!" everyone yelled.
Augustus's broom flew straight into his hand. In truth, he hadn't followed her instructions at all—he just used a basic levitation trick. Much more efficient.
Then Madam Hooch demonstrated how to mount the broom without sliding off the back. She walked among them, correcting their grips.
Harry and Ron overheard her telling off Malfoy for doing it all wrong and silently cheered.
"When I blow the whistle, kick off hard with both legs. Rise a few feet, hover briefly, then lean forward slightly and come straight back down," Madam Hooch instructed. "On my whistle—Three… Two—"
But Neville panicked. Afraid he'd be the only one stuck on the ground, he kicked off before she blew the whistle—and shot up into the sky.
"Come back down, boy!" Madam Hooch yelled, but Neville kept going—like a cork popping out of a bottle. Twelve feet… twenty feet…
His terrified, pale face looked down at the ground speeding away beneath him. He was slipping off the broom fast.
Augustus watched, amused. This Neville kid seemed to mess something up every single class.
He pulled out his wand, pointed it at the broom—an invisible force gripped the wild broom midair. Then, with a flick toward Neville, the boy slowly drifted down, separated from the broom.
Two simple spells—Mage Hand and Feather Fall—and Neville was safe. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Madam Hooch, clearly impressed, awarded Slytherin ten points and rushed over to check on Neville. It was her first flying class, and Augustus had just saved her a huge headache. Even though Neville seemed unhurt, she decided to take him to the hospital wing just to be safe.
Neville still looked stunned, his face full of confusion and nerves. Madam Hooch gently supported him with one arm and led him off the field.
The moment they were out of earshot, Malfoy burst out laughing.
"Did you see his face? What a bloody oaf!" Some of the other Slytherins joined in, laughing along. Malfoy had gained some influence among the first-years by sticking close to Augustus.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.
"Oooh, defending Longbottom, are we?" Pansy Parkinson sneered. "Didn't know you were into chubby crybabies, Patil."
"Hey, look what I found!" Malfoy called out, grabbing something off the ground. "It's that big oaf Longbottom's Rememberall—probably sent by his grandma."
He held it up—the glass ball sparkled in the sunlight.
"Give it back, Malfoy," Harry said quietly. Everyone went silent and turned to look.
Malfoy glanced at Augustus, who hadn't said a word. Seeing Augustus wasn't backing Harry up, Malfoy felt bolder.
He grinned.
"I think I'll hide it somewhere and let Longbottom go hunting for it. How about… up in a tree?"
"Give it back!" Harry shouted, but Malfoy had already jumped on his broom and took off.
Watching their bickering, Augustus couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic. He too had once had a school life full of drama like this. The silly conflicts of youth—he almost missed them.
Malfoy hovered in midair, level with the treetops, grinning mockingly. "Come and get it, Potter!"
Harry grabbed his broom.
"No!" Hermione Granger called out. "Madam Hooch told us not to move—you'll get us all in trouble!"
"No need to stop him," Augustus said casually, giving Hermione a slight wave. "I trust he can handle it."
Harry looked at him gratefully—like a teacher had just given him permission. His heart pounded in his ears as he climbed on the broom, kicked off the ground, and soared into the air. The wind whipped through his hair, and his robes flapped wildly behind him. He heard gasps and screams from the girls, and Ron's awestruck cheering.
He spun around midair, heading straight for Malfoy. Malfoy looked startled.
"Give it back," Harry shouted, "or I'll knock you off your broom!"
"Oh really?" Malfoy tried to laugh, but his tense face gave him away. He glanced down at Augustus still calmly standing on the ground and felt a little reassured. He steadied himself in midair.
Harry seemed to know instinctively what to do. He leaned forward, gripping the broom tightly—and it shot toward Malfoy like a spear. Malfoy barely dodged in time. Harry whipped around and regained control effortlessly.
"Catch this if you can!" Malfoy yelled, hurling the glass ball high into the air, then dove toward the ground.
Harry reached out—and caught it! Barely. It was so close that Augustus had nearly jumped in to rescue him several times.
But watching Harry land safely and get escorted away by Madam Hooch, Augustus couldn't help but smile.
The fiery spirit of youth… reckless adventure… it really was something to be treasured.
"....."